the mighty and strong
by hondagirl
Summary: A series of next gen drabbles based on a series of prompts. For nextgenconfessions drabble contest.
1. welcome to heartbreak, baby

author note: written for the ongoing drabble fest at nextgenconfessions on tumblr. Note that none of these drabbles connected to one another. I just wanted a place to keep them all together.

**round one**

**prompt:** freestyle

**character(s):** freestyle

* * *

welcome to heartbreak, baby

(teddy/lily luna; pg)

-:-

They are young. Lily is seventeen, eighteen years maybe and she is laughing again in his arms, telling Teddy she loves him. _Of course I do, you bloody fool,_ and Teddy opens his mouth to reply back but he can't –the words get stuck in his throat and he can't say anything, can't seem to _do_ anything except see the hurt slowly creep into her wide blue eyes and watch her face drop as she moves away, out of his arms reach. He wants to call her back, wants to see her laughing, just wants to_ feel_ her again but he still can't speak and suddenly she's _gone_ and it _hurts_. It hurts so godamn _much-_

Teddy wakes up suddenly, heart racing, his sheets damp around his clammy skin. He rolls over onto his back. "I love you," he says to the ceiling, fifteen years too late and wonders if it means anything still.


	2. thunderstorms

**round two**

**prompt: **swimming

**character(s):** lily (&) lucy

* * *

thunderstorms

(lily luna (&) lucy; gen)

-:-

James says only babies go crawling to their mummies and daddies during thunderstorms and he's ten (_double_ digits), so he knows what he's talking about. But it's summer and mummy and daddy are far away at home while they are at Nana and Grandpa's house and it's storming._ Loudly_. Lily tries for as long as possible to stay in bed, ducked under the itchy covers to muffle the noise. It doesn't work terribly well so she gets out of bed and leaves the room, jumping when the storm lets out a loud crack and runs the rest of the way down the hall to the door on the right.

"Lucy…_Lucy_…" Lily whispers loudly in the darkened room, still weighing the possibility of creeping back down the hallway and braving out the storm. "Are you 'wake?"

"Lily?" The bed moves and Lucy's blurry form can be seen. "What's wron-". A flash of lightening hits, causing Lily to start and her thirteen year old cousin to let out a small sigh of resignation. "Get up here. Don't wake Mol or Rosie," she adds and Lily suddenly sees the other bumps in her bed and doesn't feel like such a baby anymore. She joins the bed swimming with cousins, wedging herself in the small space between Rose and Lucy, jostling Rose who lets out a surprised grunt but keeps on sleeping.

Another crack of lightning brightens the room, but Lily just weasels further into the tiny gap between her cousins. Rose's breath inches from her face and she can hear Molly snoring on her other side while Lucy re-arranges the covers over them all. She spoons into Lucy, their legs tangling together and falls asleep within minutes.


	3. past rust and future dust

**round three**

**prompt: **buttercream, oasis, mint

**character(s):** dominique/teddy/rose _(triangle)_

* * *

past rust and future dust

(dominique/teddy; pg-13; warning for infidelity)

-:-

Dominique always kisses you in the darkness of night; hands gripped tightly on your hips, mouth hard against your own. She tastes like buttercream. She tastes like mint. She tastes like _Dom_.

There is no sound except the ragged joining of your breaths. And the rustles of fabric as you pull off her dress. In a tender moment you raise your hand to her cheek and your wedding ring catches the beams from the late night moon streaming in through the single window. You turn your head away.

Afterwards, Dominique whispers the words _I love you, Teddy_ into the curve of your neck and you nearly choke on them. _Do you love me,_ she asks quietly, hopefully, and your body freezes.

Yes, you want to say instantly. Yes I do. You want to tell her how she messes not just with your head but your heart. How she makes it flip flop and jump and turn upside down and inside out and stop and then pound rapidly and quickly until the happiness of having her around is nearly synonymous with the pain. The inside of your rib cage is littered with her war wounds. You want to tell her you wish she had uttered those words eleven months ago. Before Rose. Before the baby. How different things might have been. You want to tell her that. But you can't. You just _can't_.

Instead, you lie there silently and after a moment, Dominique's weight suddenly leaves your side. _We could have been forever_ she says into the darkness of the room and it cuts at your heart more than the words _I love you, Teddy_ ever could.


	4. our story must end before it can even be

**round four**

**prompt:** apple cider, fireside

**character(s): **molly/lorcan

* * *

our story must end before it can even begin

(molly/lorcan; molly/lysander; pg)

-:-

Molly's not sure she always _happy_ with Lysander. Siblings are one thing but twins are another and being with him is hard since at times, it's sort of like being with Lorcan too. It mucks her up, loving one Scamander more than the other. She loves Lysander, always has since she was twelve years old and freckled, but sometimes she catches Lorcan looking at her and there is something in his gaze that is direct and sharp and oh so _him_, that it throws her off balance, off kilter. But she pretends not to see it. Molly knows she can't break up with one boy to go out with his brother, it wouldn't be fair. Not to Lysander or Lorcan or _her, _and if there's one thing Molly knows she _is_ at nineteen, it's fair and right and loyal.

(_Oh merls_, she _hates_ those adjectives)

"This is my girl Molly," Lysander says with his arm around Molly's waist, introducing her to his new co-workers one night. "Been my girl for what- five, six years now, love?"

Molly's smile is forced. "Seven," she replies, conscious of Lorcan's gaze on them as he sips apple cider over by the pub's fireside across the room. Lysander's arm around her waist suddenly feels like a chain.

"Seven," Lysander laughs and reaches down to brush a kiss to her cheek. "How could I have forgotten?" he says teasingly to the table and they all laugh.

Molly watches as Lorcan suddenly gets up and walks over to a dark blonde sitting alone a few tables over from him. He bends his head next to her and she looks up, smiles. Even at this distance Molly can tell she's pretty. Of _course _she is. Molly turns back to Lysander, leans into him and breathes in his familiar, comforting scent. She'll shove her unhappiness, her questions, her dark secret under her rug, it's what she's always done. She trips on her rug sometimes, _occasionally_, but she hasn't let it it keep her down yet.

Across the room, the dark blonde laughs and Molly slightly freezes.

Then again, there's always a first time for everything.


End file.
